A Night With Mr Holmes
by Sympathy4TheDevil
Summary: Sherlock spends the night with a woman. Standalone story, no sequels or prequels. Could be Sherlene or Sherlolly if you want it to be. Warnings: Descriptions of sex/coarse language.


He grasped my hand and stopped me from leaving. He used his body to pin me against the wall, and stared deep into my eyes. "You see that table?" He asked, with an adorable nudge of his head in the table's direction. "That's one of the flat surfaces in this house. I calculate that there are about 28 more. And I'm going to have you on each one of them." It sounded like a promise. Inclining my head upwards very slightly so that I could reach his neck, I kissed a soft pathway up to his ear. "Make it 'on each one of them twice' and I might be persuaded to consider your offer." I whispered. His eyes were darker than I had ever seen them, and shining with a strange light. The almost alien-like beauty of his face in the half-light made me shiver. His mouth was unbearably close to mine, and I waited for him to close the distance. He did so excruciatingly slowly. He was teasing me, and he knew it. I decided to get my own back, and moved my torso from side to side with tiny movements. It would have been imperceptible from afar... But he was very close, and his very sensitive erection was pressed against me. Hence the small amount of friction I was creating, designed to make him push me back against the wall even harder. He moaned into me, the vibrations travelling from his lips into mine. My hands had since been relinquished, and were free to roam around his body. They travelled up his thighs, brushed against his arse, continued upwards against his shoulder muscles and ended in his hair, frantically clutching at his locks and mirroring the movements of his tongue. His hands, meanwhile, were moving at a snail's pace from encircling my waist to higher and higher up. In the time it had taken me to explore his entire back, he had perhaps reached my first or second rib. The deliberate way in which he did everything was driving me crazy, a fact he was fully aware of. Waiting until the he was a little distracted, I pushed with all my might so that he had to step back. Finally free, I grabbed him by the shoulders and walked him back until he was pressed against the very table he had indicated earlier. He offered practically no resistance, curious to see what I would do next. I scraped my top teeth lightly against his neck and collarbones, and then started unbuttoning his shirt. One by one the buttons fell open, and inch by inch his smooth skin appeared. I quickly reached his belt buckle, and undid it slowly. Unthreading the belt from the belt loops of his trousers, I threw it on the ground far enough away for it to longer be an obstruction to my final goal. On my knees now, I looked up at him through my eyelashes, knowing that the sight of me undressing him would be driving him wild. I was right: his breathing was laboured and his heart rate staccato. I debated undoing the zipper with my teeth, but decided to save that until later. Instead, I stood up and admired my handiwork. He was now looking gloriously dishevelled - it was my turn. He read my mind and wound his arm around me so that my arse was pressed against his ever-growing cock. His other hand unzipped my dress, and he let go of me just enough for the material to pool at our feet. I kicked it away, and spun around. We both stood, looking at each other. I could see myself in his eyes, my hair ruffled and my black bra strap starting to slide off one of my shoulders as its matching underwear clung to my hips. I could only hope that he could see himself reflected in my pupils, as I had certainly never seen a sexier sight than this man with his shirt hanging open and a very significant bulge in his trousers. I knew it was time to put him out of his misery, and I slid his jeans down to his ankles, leaving him just his boxers as a small token to decency. He gently helped me up to my feet and laid me against the wooden table, my feet pressed on the edge and spread slightly apart as he covered me in kisses. His hand brushed first one and then the other bra strap away, and I arched my back briefly to allow him to remove the garment completely. I closed my eyes and felt his warm tongue at my throat followed by his cold fingers cupping my breast, his thumbs lightly stroking my nipples. I moaned loudly, bucking my hips, and encountered his pelvis. I used my thumbs to hook my underwear and pull it down, so that it was hanging off one if my toes. I flipped it through the air and alerted his attention to the fact that I was now completely naked, and expecting him to follow suit. He obeyed in record time and reached down to kiss me again. I could feel him brushing against my thigh, and I knew exactly what I wanted. I told him in no uncertain terms, and he growled at my use of language: "I'm here, on this table, naked. I'm open for you. How long are you going to make me wait until you fuck me to oblivion and back? Fuck me. Hard." He finally complied, and I lost all semblance of control as he slid into me, filling me completely. My fingernails dug into his back as his tongue flicked my nipple. My brain went into sensory overload, and I could see only stars and feel only bliss. He was working in and out of me and my muscles were working by themselves, clutching at his cock as it left and trying to keep him in as he entered. After what felt like hours but was still not enough time, we gazed at each other as one being and came, groaning inarticulately. It took me a while to come down off my cloud, but when I did I panted against his ear until I could speak. "That was once, Mr. Holmes. Only 55 more times to go."  
"Always happy to oblige. I can always count it as a science experiment if I'm ever asked to write up my hours." He returned, and pushed against me once again.


End file.
